


Recourse

by spowell Once and Future Series (SPowell)



Series: Once and Future [34]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, post canon au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/spowell%20Once%20and%20Future%20Series
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has no other recourse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recourse

**Author's Note:**

> <3 I never cared for the way Excalibur was dealt with in the series, particularly with the part in the stone. (Although, in legend, that sword usually isn't Excalibur at all.) This story is series-compliant, and that's one of the reasons I choose not to bring the sword into play in my plot. I do, however, feel it makes sense for someone like Davies, a medievalist, to be very interested in obtaining it--even just to own it.

“He wants Excalibur,” Arthur tells Merlin later that night.

Long seconds pass while Merlin stares at the ceiling over their bed. “It makes sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“That he wants something like that. It would be a real feather in his cap to have the famous sword belonging to King Arthur.” Merlin turns his head to look at him. “But you can’t let him have it.”

“Why not? You know where it is, don’t you?”

“I threw it back in the lake-- The Lady of the Lake keeps it for you.”

“I hardly need it, Merlin.”

“You don’t know that. You’re the once and _future_ king, Arthur.”

Arthur laughs, moving to get more comfortable in their bed. “Merlin, this is…come on. Davies knows where my father is!”

Merlin turns over, back to Arthur, and stares at the wall.

“Merlin…”

“We can find your father, if you want to see him so badly.”

“Of course, I want to see him!” Arthur sits up. “But how can we find him? I don’t even know if he looks the same, or what his name is—“

“I’ll find him for you.”

“You really don’t want Davies to have the sword?”

Merlin’s back tenses.

“I am not going back to the lake of Avalon, Arthur. _Ever._ I went there to retrieve you, and I never want to see it again. If someday you are required to get the sword, you will do it alone.”

Slowly Merlin turns around, and Arthur gets a rare glimpse of the age-old wizard Arthur sometimes forgets Merlin is. Merlin’s eyes glow; not with magic, but with the weight of his conviction.

Merlin takes a deep breath before continuing in a calmer tone.

“Excalibur is forged by dragon’s breath. It is magical. It can kill both the dead and the undead, and it belongs to Britain’s greatest king. I will not let Brandon Davies touch it-- I’ll deal with him. I should have dealt with him long ago.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

But Merlin refuses to discuss it, and anytime Arthur brings it up in the days following, no matter how irritated or even angry Arthur gets, Merlin firmly turns his back on him.

Late one evening Arthur comes home from his advanced swordplay class to find Merlin lying listlessly on the sofa, extremely pale.

“Merlin?” Arthur drops his bag and hurries over to him. “Merlin? What’s wrong?”

Merlin blinks, glassy-eyed, as Arthur takes Merlin’s chin in his hand, raising it to the light from the lamp. Merlin’s pupils are dilated and there’s a sleek sheen of sweat covering his skin. Arthur sits down on the coffee table, holding Merlin’s cold, clammy hand in his.

“I’m taking you to hospital.” Arthur leans in, sliding his arm under Merlin’s back.

“I’m…okay,” Merlin says, resisting, but he’s no match for Arthur in the weakened state he’s in.

“You damn well are not okay! You look like death, Merlin. What’s happened?”

Merlin shakes his head. “No. I’ve just…exhausted myself, that’s all.”

“How? What have you been doing?”

“M-magic. Difficult magic.”

Arthur has managed to lift Merlin into his arms, but at those words, he sits down, Merlin sprawled over his lap.

“What…”

“Just let me rest. I’ll tell you in a bit. Listen, would you make me something to eat? I haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

Arthur eases out from under Merlin and heads for the kitchen with a last look over his shoulder to find that Merlin’s closed his eyes again.

Arthur pushes his anxiety down, taking out some soup from yesterday’s dinner and warming it up. Whatever Merlin’s been doing, he’s got a handle on it. He’s been living for hundreds of years after all, and is none the worse for wear.

When he has Merlin sitting up and eating, Arthur simply waits.

“This is the most patient I’ve ever seen you,” Merlin gives Arthur a half-smile when he puts his spoon down and finishes his glass of milk.

Arthur leans over and wipes the milk mustache from Merlin’s upper lip with his thumb.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Merlin’s face falls. “I’m sorry, Arthur, for shutting you out. It hasn’t been easy for me, if that makes it any better. I just had to do this alone.”

“And what is it you had to do?” Arthur asks, stomach tightening into a painful knot.

“I had to take care of Brandon so that he wouldn’t bother us again. And I’ve done it. We’re through with him.”

Arthur doesn’t know what to say. He’s afraid to ask. Did Merlin kill Davies? While part of him wouldn’t mind it, another part recoils at the very idea that Merlin, his Merlin, could do such a thing. Has he changed so much in all this time?

No. Arthur knows he hasn’t. Whatever Merlin’s done, he hasn’t committed murder.

Merlin leans back against the sofa, obviously exhausted. Arthur takes his glass from him and places it on the table before settling back and tugging Merlin into an embrace.

“Tell me.”

Merlin sighs a world-weary sigh that comes from deep within.

“I took every memory of us from him.”

“What? Is that even possible?”

Merlin looks up at Arthur with a quirk of his lips. “I just said I did it, didn’t I?”

“Excuse me,” Arthur shakes his head. “I sometimes forget I’m dealing with the greatest wizard who ever lived.”

Merlin laughs. “Yeah, well. This wasn’t easy. I wasn’t even sure I could do it. I don’t think I’m going to be able to go to work for the next few days.” He leans his head against Arthur’s shoulder. “Can you run the shop?”

“Of course. He really won’t remember us? At all?”

“Not at all. I took every trace of us from his home and his mind, double and triple checking it. He shouldn’t even remember Jake Winters.”

“Wow. Unbelievable.”

“You can believe it,” Merlin snuggles closer to Arthur. “Don’t worry about him anymore.” He’s quiet for a while. “I felt awful doing it.”

“I know,” Arthur says.

Arthur plays with Merlin’s hair, unsure if he wants to bring it up, but Merlin does it for him.

“I found your father.”

When Arthur doesn’t say anything, Merlin raises his face to look at him.

“Arthur?”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s…he looks like he did. It’s weird. I don’t know why he would. I expected him to be completely different. It makes me wonder…well. We’ll cross that bridge later. His name’s Anthony Thomas, and he’s a farmer.”

“A farmer?” Arthur tries to imagine his father working on a farm and can’t. “He does menial work?”

Merlin laughs. “Yes. When do you want to go see him?”

Now that he’s faced with it, Arthur isn’t sure.

“You don’t have to rush things, Arthur. Take your time.”

“What if something happens? He disappears or something. I’d never forgive myself.” Arthur shakes his head. “We’d better go soon.”

“Okay, whenever you like. Just give me a few days to regroup.”

Arthur tilts Merlin’s chin and presses his mouth to Merlin’s, trying to convey in the kiss everything he’s feeling—the gratitude and most especially the love, which runs so deeply Arthur feels he’ll never be able to express it properly. When he pulls away, the tears in Merlin’s eyes mirror his own.

 

 

 

                                                                                 

 

 

 

 


End file.
